


the pieces of sakusa kiyoomi

by alixnqveen



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Haikyuu Timeskip, I wrote this for Miray bc I love her, Mornings, Normalize Asking For Permission To Smooch, Normalize Respecting Boundaries, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:02:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26178436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alixnqveen/pseuds/alixnqveen
Summary: ((THIS IS FOR THE LOVELY MIRAY but like other people can read it too uwu))You sat like that a few seconds, simply enjoying sharing the space with the other. There were no loud noises inside or out, no people to worry about, no urgent work to be done or places to be - just you, Kiyoomi, and the warmth of the bed and space between you. It wasn't necessarily a space you felt pressured to close, just a gap from one to the other, in the middle were your fingers clasped together.
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 117





	the pieces of sakusa kiyoomi

_So I was thinking-_

  
  


_Mhmmmmm?_

_Well you see, what do u say to a little get together at my brother’s?_

_Like the shop?_

_No shit the shop_

_rUde_

_And for what??_

_Smh_

_smH_

_Anyway what do u think?_

_I’ll have to ass Kiyoomi but I don’t see why not_

_ask*_

_ASK*_

_Daaam girl, keep ur freaky business to urself 👁_

_Nuuuu stfu_

_👁👄👁_

_Fuck you bitch_

_AnYwAy, what time?_

_Oh idk, I still have to ask samu :P_

_bRUH I HATE YOU_

_SHH OK I DONT SEE WHY HE WOULD SAY NO_

_I hate it here, on god_

_SHUT UP_

_WHAT ABT NOON_

_NOON WORKS FINE_

_BITCH_

_FUCK U_

_FUCK U BACK MF_

_😔 cant have shit in dis house_

_stg_

_go cry abt it fuckface <3 _

_ >:O _

_I take it back, don't talk to me ever again_

_🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️_

Rolled over on your side, you smile slightly at the screen as you message Atsumu. The early sunlight filtered through the slightly opened blinds, making the room dimly lit with the gentle morning. There you sat, in the fluffy, warm bed, resting your head on your pillow, quietly typing away. Until a voice from behind made you jump, “You shouldn't be on your phone first thing in the morning, you know.”

The arm holding up your phone went limp, slightly grazing the floor as you deflate, “Good morning to you too, baby.”

“Baby,” Kiyoomi repeated in an apathetic tone. “Where’d that come from?”

“You’re baby, aren’t you?”

“I’m what?”

You huff a laugh through your nose, smiling. Placing your phone on your nightstand, you flip yourself around in the bed. Kiyoomi was laying on his back, arms crossed over his chest. He glanced at you, an eyebrow raised questioningly. You smile up at him, “Baby. You’re baby.”

“I am baby?” His voice was low and scratchy, clearly tired. You almost liked it more than his regular voice. Almost.

“Yes.”

He blinked up at the ceiling, confused. Lifting an arm up to rub his eyes, he said slowly, “It’s too early to wrap my head around… whatever that means.”

“Omi is baby.”

“I’m not going to ask.”

You laugh again, “Maybe that's a good idea.”

Kiyoomi turned back to you, tilting his head to get a better look. You smile at him softly, then slide your hands up to push your index fingers together, blinking up at him in faked nervousness. He hummed, eyebrows twitching, “The hell are you doing?”

“But what if… _I’m_ baby,” you say weakly under his gaze. “Haha, JK… unless?”

“Please stop, I just woke up.”

With a playful smile, you drop your hands, “Okay, okay. We can both be baby.”

He closed his eyes momentarily, wincing a bit as he nodded, “Yeah, sure.”

You rolled over so you could be on your back like him, resting your hands on your stomach. You both sat in silence, neither one of you wanting to move out of bed. You were about to mention Atsumu’s invitation when Kiyoomi muttered, “Good morning.”

You smile. His voice was still low, having yet to shake off the exhaustion. It felt warm, as warm as the bed. “Can I hold your hand?” you ask just as quietly, as if too much noise would shake the entire room.

“Sure.”

He moved his arm from his chest, holding it up for you with his fingers slightly extended. His hands were long and surprisingly delicate-looking, yet they were so strong and weathered, like the marble hands of those old Greek statues. You slip your own into his, feeling the subtle calluses on his palms from years of playing volleyball. His hands were almost as chill as you’d suspect the statues to be, but you didn't mind. As you let your joined hands fall softly to the bed between you, he gently squeezed, like he had to make sure your hand was actually there. Just in case.

You sat like that a few seconds, simply enjoying sharing the space with the other. There were no loud noises inside or out, no people to worry about, no urgent work to be done or places to be - just you, Kiyoomi, and the warmth of the bed and space between you. It wasn't necessarily a space you felt pressured to close, just a gap from one to the other, in the middle were your fingers clasped together. 

You tilted your head to the side, and you carefully watched Kiyoomi, noticing his eyes had fluttered closed, as his chest rose and fell. The way his nose was pointed, the way his black curls were messy in a way that still looked good, the way his eyebrows were only slightly pulled together, the way his jaw was set, not in a frown, but in a flat line that meant neither happiness nor sadness - just simple contentment. It was hard to look away, especially since the morning light had settled on his features in just the right way. You knew not even the best, most clear camera in the world could quite capture the image you were seeing with your own two eyes. Much like the Greek statues, he was effortlessly beautiful in a timeless sort of way.

One of his eyebrows twitched but he kept his eyes closed. He must've known you were watching him. The fact he didn't respond nor react much with that knowledge was one of the quiet ways he let you know. You were an exception, you were comfortable, you were special. Just as special as he was to you. You let out a contented sigh through your nose, a light smile dusting your lips. He tightened his grip on your hand only slightly.

“Atsumu wants to hang out with us at Onigiri Miya at noon,” you quietly inform, though it almost felt wrong given the moment you were sharing. “Do you want to go?”

“Did you already say yes?” he asked, still not opening his eyes.

You shook your head, “Not really, no.”

“Do _you_ want to go?”

“I’m up for whatever, you can say no if you don't want to.”

The corner of his lips perked up, just a bit, “Well I don't usually do things I don't want to do.”

Your voice was just a whisper, “Yeah, I know.”

His eyelids slid open, slow and careful, “I don't care. I trust the _respectful_ twin in his establishment.” What he meant was he trusted Osamu to be taking proper care of his shop, to be cleaning it when it should be cleaned and making sure to wash all the dishes the right way. That was one thing the both of you liked about the other Miya twin; he was responsible about everything he did, taking obvious pride in his work. 

He was also immediately understanding of the somewhat unspoken concerns of Kiyoomi. Though he hadn't even said anything, on Kiyoomi’s first visit to Onigiri Miya with the Black Jackals team, Osamu had wiped off the utensils he used to cook and washed the plates a second time. It was a seemingly unimportant action to anyone else, but Kiyoomi had picked up on it immediately as he sat at the counter watching him do it. He told you about it later since you hadn't been with him, and he said he figured Atsumu had told his brother about it. Needless to say, it was appreciated, and you knew he did what he could to make sure Osamu knew that, even if it just meant continuing to return to the shop.

You gave a nod, “Okay. Lunch with the Miya brothers it is, then.”

“Don't put it like that, it sounds exhausting when it’s put like that,” Kiyoomi groaned, lifting his free hand to his eyes again.

“An outing with the Miya children?”

“They're not kids. That’d be much worse.”

“How about a brief meeting with Atsumu and Osamu.”

Kiyoomi frowned at the ceiling with his hand resting on his forehead. He grunted, pouting a bit more, “It sounds gross either way.”

“You’re right,” you shrug. The smile that danced on your lips grew, “Would it be even grosser if we matched outfits today?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, okay, you’re right again.”

It took you another 5 minutes to get out of bed, since you were both comfortable where you were and reluctant to leave the soft environment you created together. You could lay there forever if it was possible. Alas Kiyoomi had carefully retracted his hand with a look in his eyes that said ‘sorry’, a look that he probably only gave you, and sat up in bed. You grabbed your phone again, sending a quick message to Atsumu that you were coming. He responded quickly, saying something along the lines of, “ _of course ur coming. tell Omi-kun I said hello~_ ”

You looked over your shoulder at Kiyoomi as he stood, stretching his shoulders. Your smile was almost biting, “‘Tsumu says hello, _Omi-kun_.”

Kiyoomi’s face pulled into disgust, “Ew.”

“Omi says ‘ew’,” you said aloud as you typed it.

As you hit send, Kiyoomi continued, “Since when do you call him that? Isn't that his brother’s thing?”

“What, ‘Tsumu? I don't know, I just wanted to say it, it’s fun to say.” You placed your phone back on the nightstand and stood as well. You fake gasped, “Oh, are you jealous?”

“You know I’m not,” Kiyoomi fleetingly rolled his eyes. His face had returned to its neutral, apathetic demeanor, his dark eyes giving no sign of much emotion. He moved his head to the side to stretch it out, “Besides, why would I be jealous of that disgusting, flashy, overconfident fuckboy who can't keep his nasty ass tongue in his mouth?”

“Ouch! Drag his ass!”

It was small, but the way the corners Kiyoomi’s mouth tilted up made your heart give an extra beat. You lifted your hands above your head to stretch as well, then made your way around the bed to Kiyoomi. You stood in front of him in silence, having to look up since this man was simply too long. He stared back, still neutral as always. But the way his hair unflatteringly flopped over the way it usually did in the mornings, the way his dark eyes were so deep you wanted to envelop yourself in the warm blackness, the way his beautifully carved lips were set just a tad to the right… 

“Can I kiss you?” you politely ask, keeping your hands to your sides.

He continued to stare down at you in blank indifference, but when his eyebrows very slightly pulled together, you soon understood the message. Kiyoomi sighed a bit, glancing away, “Not now. Can we brush our teeth first?”

“Sure thing,” you nod in understanding. He moved his hand to touch your shoulder briefly, almost like an apology, then pulled back with a relieved expression - or, as relieved as he can look, since his apathy was soon recovered. You turned on your heel to head to the bathroom. “Don't mind, don't mind!” you said, mimicking the phrase often thrown around by the volleyball players Kiyoomi played with. 

It was amusing, standing in the mirror watching the two of you brush your teeth. The height difference sometimes felt wide, but _looking_ at it was something else entirely. He was just really tall. Almost two whole meters, save a few centimeters. It gave you something to entertain yourself with, your gaze flicking between the top of his head to yourself and back again in the mirror. As you finished up, he was washing out his mouth again as you asked, “How tall is Atsumu again?”

“Almost 188,” he said after he spit out the water. He picked out a paper towel from the roll he kept in there and wiped his face with it. 

“And Bokuto?”

“190,” he threw away the towel, looking at you carefully. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m just thinking about how cool it is that the Hinata kid is only 172,” you put your hands on your hips. “What, doesn’t he only reach your shoulders?”

Kiyoomi thought, looking down. “No, a bit taller than that. It’s not incredibly impressive though. He’s able to utilize his skills the best he can, he’s naturally athletic and he practices everyday,” he shrugged. “I mean he’s been dedicated since high school. If you put in practice like he does, you’d be able to do it too.”

You listed your head, enjoying listening to him talk, “So height’s got nothing to do with it then?”

“No. Anyone can do anything as long as they put in the practice for it,” he said as inflectionless as usual. 

You nod, of course paying attention to what he was saying but more focused on the way his lips moved as he spoke. He stared at you with an unreadable expression for a heartbeat before continuing, his voice a bit quieter, “Well, do you still want to kiss me?”

There was an entire world of emotions and thoughts behind his blank look, you knew. You could almost read it, like smudged ink in a book - you could pick out certain things here and there. You almost swayed forward involuntarily, pulled into him, itching to get a closer look at his mysterious book, “Yes.”

Kiyoomi moved his head, only a bit. He didn't have to say anything further, just the silent movement of his chin was enough. He looked at you, a look that told you things he didn't have to put to words. You inched yourself closer, reaching your hands to his face with such care, like he may break in your grasp. An old Greek statue, with cold yet perfect skin, with cutting facial features, with delicate yet strong limbs. Even the moles above his eyebrow felt deliberate, an important feature in the artwork before you. A part of you may have worried if he was just as fragile as one of those statues as well. 

He stared back, a whole world behind the abyss of his eyes. They seemed to look right through you, seeing every part of your mind like looking through glass. He was a statue but his eyes were alight with the liveliness you found only in the dark night sky or the endlessly deep ocean. You could stare into them for hours if he allowed you to, studying and learning the complexities as much as could. You wanted to know just how much went on behind those eyes, you wanted to know its depths. You wanted to see him like he seemed to see you. Whole and in entirety and full of wondrous flaws and quirks and nuances. 

And you felt like you did, when you noticed the way his lips moved or his eyebrows pulled. When you noticed the set of his jaw in a new place with new people, when you noticed the stiffness in his shoulders. When you noticed the way he acts around you and how it differs with other people, not because he’s hateful or possessive, but because you're comfort and security and understanding. Gradually, as you know him, his abyss becomes less muddy and difficult to see through as your eyes adjust to the dark, you manage to decipher the words on the pages. The mind of Sakusa Kiyoomi is complicated and sometimes difficult to understand, and you were determined to sit through and learn every single part of it.

So when you brought your lips closer to his, brushing against them in slight hesitation, you wanted to make sure just one more time if this was within the boundaries. And when he closed the space himself, pressing gently into you like he didn't want to wait any longer, you understood another piece of his puzzle.

He brought his hands to your wrists, carefully pulling them away. He slipped his fingers into yours as he kissed you, slow and tender. You both separated, eyes flicking to the other’s, but it was fleeting as he leaned forward once more. It was like he was dipping into your warmth - his chill, pristine demeanor paired to your shiny, malleable energy. He was a Greek statue while you were melted gold. A dark abyss and an ocean of light. It was times like these that for a brief moment, you felt like everything about him was clear, every way his brain clicked and his heart beat made sense. It was swift, like a breeze passing through rustling leaves of a tree, but it was a secret, special look that no one else saw but you.

Though you knew, as he pulled away again and looked at you with just as much care and sensitivity, like if he looked away you’d be gone - you knew he didn't have to make sense. He was a book with smudged ink, and a few pages were missing. It may be impossible for you to understand the entire story. And you were okay with that too. You took each case as you went, deciding whether or not a gap in the tale had to be filled yourself or if he could do it for you. He wasn't going to be completely understood, maybe not even he knew where the story went, and that was okay. He was still Kiyoomi, and that was all you really needed.

“I love you,” you whispered, gripping his hands. 

His face softened. His eyebrows weren't pushed together, his eyes weren't sharp with caution, his mouth wasn't a frown, his teeth weren't clenched. Like a Greek statue, he looked infinitely at peace. “I love you too.”

The mind of Sakusa Kiyoomi is complicated and sometimes difficult to understand. You were a shining light to see through the dark in careful exploration, even if it took an eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> One fateful evening, my dear Miray had opened Tumblr in search of quality Sakusa x reader content, but was instead met with uncomfortable situations and a lot of smut for no reason. "I'll do it," I said to her, "I'll write one, just for you."
> 
> Little did I know that I actually DID want to write it. So here I am, a quick little oneshot that ain't too bad since I'm not great at writing romance. 
> 
> This is for Miray, because I love Miray and even if we're not the best friends ever, I'm very glad that I know her and I wanted to something for her. I LOVE YOU BB, SORRY IF IT KINDA SUCKS LMAO-- <3


End file.
